


A Darker Shade of Red

by AsILayDying



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Dark, Dark Ron Weasley, Draco Malfoy & Ron Weasley Friendship, Gen, Slytherin Ron Weasley
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-05
Updated: 2018-11-05
Packaged: 2019-08-19 02:39:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16525733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AsILayDying/pseuds/AsILayDying
Summary: "Slytherin!" With that one dreaded word, Ron Weasley's life changed forever. It was over. He was screwed before he could even begin. Slytherin Ron. Darkfic!





	A Darker Shade of Red

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing, never have and never will. 
> 
> So yeah, I wanted to write about a semi-good Slytherin Ron and a very twisted friendship with Draco Malfoy. So this is what I got. It's not exactly a happy one, but then Ron and Slytherin? It was never going to go well.

A Darker Shade of Red

Ron hissed softly as he inspected his cut arm. It looked infected. Great. He pulled out his wand and cast the only healing spell he knew but it was of no good. The curse kept the wound from closing and a cleansing charm might clean it a bit but if it was already infected, then he would need potions to fix it. 

Sometimes Ron Weasley had the worst bloody luck in the world. Here he was in the middle of nowhere, his arm bloody, his robes torn and his mark burning, telling him he had to go back. He laughed. After letting Longbottom go he was never going to have a welcome back. His cover was finally and undeniably blown and it was only a matter of time before he was punished for his little act of mercy. 

Yet he couldn’t be upset. Not even as he heard a popping noise near him that signaled that he was not alone. He just laughed in a way he hadn’t laughed since he was a kid, listening to his brothers tell him all about Hogwarts. 

“Weasley…” he heard the shaking voice of his best friend through his laughter and turned to meet whatever ridiculous fate he had coming. Draco Malfoy stared at him as though in shock, the knuckles of his right hand white as he clutched his wand. “Why?”

“I thought you already knew Malfoy. You can see that I’m just a blood traitor after all. It’s what you’ve said about me before.” He offered Malfoy a cold smile, feeling a grim satisfaction at the other wizard’s ill look. 

Malfoy glared at him. “I didn’t mean it.”

“Well I do,” Ron’s face was set. “So if you’re here to kill me just get on with it. I don’t mind dying.” He really didn’t but would his so-called best friend have the nerve to do it? Malfoy had never been a killer; he knew that much from the past year. Perhaps now was a different matter? It would do Ron a lot of good if he would get it over with for him. 

“I don’t know how we got into this mess,” Malfoy was now gripping his hair so hard he was liable to pull it out. 

Ron’s face was expressionless as he looked at him. “I do.”

“You didn’t have to do this.” Malfoy looked horribly desperate. “You should run, run so far out of Wizarding Britain that it’ll take them years to work out where you are, if they ever do.”

“I won’t run,” Ron told him. His arm was aching horribly as he wobbled over to a tree stump and settled wearily down onto it. He could have done with something, like a potion, or even some firewhiskey, to ease the intense pain. “And anyway it’s too late,” he added as more pops were heard and Bellatrix Lestrange and two other Death Eaters materialized in the gathering darkness. 

~  
~  
~

But we are getting ahead of ourselves. The story starts with an eleven year old child. 

When Ronald Weasley was a small boy he used to always dream about going to Hogwarts like his older brothers. He lived for stories of theirs about the school; Charlie’s Quidditch team, the twin’s pranks, the Great Hall... He couldn’t wait until the time came and he could walk into that hall, get sorted into Gryffindor like the others and start learning real magic like his parents could do. He might even get to play Quidditch like Charlie!

His enthusiasm grew rapidly after he got his letter. Even the embarrassment of having to use his older brothers’ old things, and Fred and George’s teasing him over being nervous couldn’t stop Ron from dreaming of all of the things he would do once he was at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. He felt both incredibly scared and excited as he sat in a compartment on the train. He had even made a new friend, and with Harry Potter no less! Things were looking great.

The euphoria lasted just long enough to hear the hat call out the word, “Slytherin!” With that one dreaded word, Ron Weasley’s life changed forever. 

So having the twin’s hate him wasn’t going to be too out of line, and he would have had Percy behaving sternly and lecturing him no matter what, but seeing Harry Potter look at him in surprise and hurt from the Gryffindor table stung for far longer than he would have liked. There had been an exceptionally fun train ride where he had foolishly thought that he had made a best friend. 

Still Ron had no choice but to join the green and silver clad house, away from his brothers and Potter. As he sat between a dark-haired girl with a nose like a pug and a weedy looking boy with a scowl on his face, he heard Draco Malfoy say viciously to his cronies, “Looks like we’ve got ourselves a Weasel here boys.” The name, like the Boy-Who-Lived’s hurt expression, stuck around for far too long in Ron’s mind. 

So while Harry Potter got Gryffindor house, fame, fortune, and numerous heroic acts linked to his name, Ron Weasley got insults, hexes, taunting, and also the cold shoulder from his own family. When Fred and George weren’t at the forefront of the hissing and taunting, that is. Eventually it became easiest to fight back, to show some of the other houses a little of Ron’s own Slytherin pride, and it was this that led to him, extremely unintentionally, becoming one of Malfoy’s crummy toadies. 

It was not that the two boys liked each other. Rather, Draco liked having someone marginally more intelligent than Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle to lord over, and Ron wanted to stick it to his brothers. They made a terrible duo, never seeing eye to eye, always insulting one another; but maintained the perfect nasty front whenever anyone from another house crossed their paths. The most twisted pair of best friends in the world to anyone outside of their house and the most deadly of enemies within their own common room. 

Still Ron Weasley wondered sometimes, as he watched Potter and his hangers on, what it would have been like to have been a Gryffindor. Would he and Harry Potter have been friends? He felt so sure of it, that it was sometimes with great restraint that he kept from punching Malfoy when he was harping on about Potter. Which he did constantly, for pretty much the same petty reasons that Ron fought with Harry Potter. It was simple, Harry Potter was a golden Gryffindor, and they would always be considered second rate Slytherin’s. 

It was this that led to constant petty behavior, like Malfoy trying to get Potter expelled after he made the Gryffindor Quidditch team and him dragging Ron out of bed at midnight to go chase after Potter and Granger, who according to Malfoy’s oh so twisted logic, had a dragon’s egg. That lost them twenty points each and earned them a detention, though at least they didn’t lose as many points as Potter and his friends. Still the Gryffindor’s somehow saved the school and Dumbledore awarded Potter, Longbottom and Granger enough points to make them snatch the House Cup right away from Slytherin. 

The following year saw the Chamber of Secrets open and students begin getting attacked and still Harry Potter shined brighter. It was at the end of that year, on the Hogwarts express, after Potter had apparently saved Ron’s sister Ginny from near death in the chamber itself that Percy pulled Ron aside to talk about his very troublesome relationship with Draco Malfoy. 

“It’s really unbelievable that you could still be friends with that boy after the things he said about muggleborns this year Ron.” Percy shook his head at him. “Why I’m dating a muggleborn and Ginny is a friend of Hermione Granger. You were raised better than this.”

“I didn’t say that I disliked muggleborns,” Ron told Percy. “I’ve never even bothered Granger about being one.”

“Malfoy has though, and after she was attacked this year one would think you would have a little more thought than to go around with him.”

Any guilt that Ron might have felt at Hermione Granger’s expense evaporated as the twins poked their identical heads in and spotting Percy and Ron, decided that now would be the right time to intervene. “Oh, is the muggleborn hater actually willing to talk to a lowly family member?” Fred said. “I thought you had important things to do, like lick Malfoy’s boots for him.”

Ron started to brush past them, only to have George grab his arm: “Not so cheeky now that the chamber is closed and your little friend isn’t strutting around like he owns the school anymore, are you?” he added. 

“Now really, I was just trying to have a word with Ron about that before you came in,” Percy told them. “You don’t need to go and make it worse.”

“Its fine Percy,” Ron said sourly as he jerked his arm free. He was out the door and back to the compartment he shared with the second year Slytherin’s before they could stop him.

~  
~  
~

“So what’s the betting that Potter ends up in the hospital wing this Quidditch match?” 

Ron blinked. From across the table, Malfoy’s eyes were narrowed maliciously. He pointed towards the gray ceiling with a smirk. “He’s ended up in the hospital wing in much better weather playing Quidditch,” he went on, “and the weather is so truly beastly today.” Crabbe and Goyle chortled as he continued, “What good luck for us that my poor arm is still in bad shape.”

Resisting his urge to pull Malfoy’s bandages off, Ron smirked back. “Well that depends. Its bad weather, but we don’t have a git like Lockhart here to mess things up. Still this is Potter, so chances are excellent he’ll still get hurt. Pity he will probably come out of it fine.”

Yeah you’re right. It’s a shame that we aren’t betting on it though Weasley. You could always use the money to buy yourself something decent for a change.” 

Ron ignored this. Malfoy was always insulting his family’s lack of wealth. Of course they were both right about Potter. Harry Potter took a tremendous fall but thanks to Dumbledore came out of it right as rain. On the plus side though, Gryffindor lost the match.

Still the year went south. Gryffindor won the House and Quidditch Cup, Ron somehow lost his pet rat Scabbers, and the rather cool Professor Lupin had to leave thanks to Ron’s head of house outing him as a werewolf. Though the Quidditch Cup held in England that year was wicked, the Death Eater attack there led to the worst fight Ron had ever had with his father in his life. After years of barely tolerating Ron’s bizarre friendship with Draco Malfoy, Arthur Weasley was finally putting his foot down. Ron was never to have another civil word with that boy.

So Ron, ignoring that he barely had a civil word from Malfoy when they were on the best of terms, did what any rebellious, angsty teenager in his situation would do: refuse to listen to a word of his father’s, get really defensive about how he was ruining his life, and after drawing two-thirds of the family into the fight; really only Bill and Charlie had enough sense to stay out of it, and Percy was still at work, storm dramatically up to his room and slam the door. 

It was a very tense week and a half before he climbed onto the school train with his things and at the end of it his father was still angry at him and he was still refusing to budge even the slightest. It was with very mixed feelings that he found Malfoy’s compartment, where the blond was sitting with Crabbe, Goyle and Pansy Parkinson. He settled his trunk in the luggage compartment just as Malfoy opened his mouth to speak.

“How in the world did you manage to go to the Quidditch Cup Weasley? There’s no way even your house would cover the cost?” Crabbe and Goyle sniggered and Parkinson smirked. 

“I got your mother to pay for it,” Ron said simply. “She owed me a favor after that great time I showed her last month.” 

Malfoy’s pale face flushed. “Don’t you dare talk about my mother like that, Weasley.” Crabbe and Goyle looked at Ron threateningly. 

Ron shrugged. “All I’m saying is you have a good-looking mother. Nothing wrong with that, is there?” He smirked at Malfoy as the other teenager thought of something to say. Finally he burst out with:

“At least my mother is good-looking Weasley. I’ve seen your mother, and she could stand to lose a bit of weight, couldn’t she?” There was more sniggering from the two goons at this.

“So you’re admitting you think your mother is good-looking?” Ron said. “I know you guys intermarry, but I would have thought that you drew the line at mother and son.” He shook his head. Malfoy was about to angrily retort when suddenly he froze, then held up a finger for silence. From the next compartment over, Ron could hear a familiar voice talking. 

“It’s that mudblood Granger,” Malfoy said. Putting on hold the argument, he got out of his seat. Without a word, Ron slid off his seat and followed him. The two made their way to the following compartment, where the door was ajar. There sat Harry Potter and his best friends, Hermione Granger and Neville Longbottom. 

“So if it isn’t Scarhead and his little Gryffindor buddies,” Malfoy said sneeringly, “what is Potter…”

Ron tuned out as he heard Malfoy start on his insults. It was predictable. He simply smirked at the right time, added a few sharp remarks of his own and waited for Malfoy to decide to leave. It wasn’t until he realized that he was being directly asked something that he froze, before blurting out: “what did you say?”

It was Potter and he was glaring at him. “I said, your brothers are decent people. What the hell happened to you?”

Ron glared back. “If you can call Fred and George decent people,” he said scathingly. 

“Better than you,” Potter told him. 

“Of course, they have the approval of the great Harry Potter, so of course that means they are better than you Ron,” Malfoy said with a sneer. “Whoever the Boy-Who-Lived is friends with is that much better, blood-traitor and mudblood though they might be.” 

At these words, all three of them stood up, ready to curse him. Ron stood his ground as Longbottom of all people drew his wand on him. “Get the hell out or you’ll be sorry!” the chubby boy said in anger. 

“Big words Longbottom,” Malfoy gestured to Ron, “Come on, I don’t like the atmosphere here. Too muggle.” The two left the three standing there, wands out and fuming. 

~  
~  
~

Enjoyable though it was to get under his family’s skin, it didn’t stop Malfoy from getting on Ron’s last nerve. So it was with utter glee that he watched Malfoy get turned into a ferret and bounced all over the hallway by the erratic Professor Moody. Unfortunately, he was unable for once to keep his feelings to himself and Malfoy shot him a look of utter betrayal and loathing as he was dragged away to see Professor Snape.

“So Weasley thinks that crazy Professor is funny, does he?” Malfoy’s eyes were no more than slits as he regarded him in anger. 

Ron shrugged. “I don’t know how funny he is, but the sight of you being bounced around the hallway is pretty funny.” He smirked. “Draco Malfoy, the Amazing-Bouncing-Ferret.” He was cut off mid-laugh by a knock to his head. Feeling blood well up in his mouth, he looked up into Malfoy’s seething face and let out a spit that would have made the twins proud. In a fit of rage, his face covered with blood and saliva, Draco Malfoy tackled him off the couch and to the floor. It took two prefects to separate the pair. 

“I’d like to see how funny you are when someone turns you into a weasel and bounces you around the dungeons,” Malfoy said as Montague pulled him to his feet, his hands still behind his back.

Ron struggled in his captors grip. “As funny as your Dad will look if they find out he was behind that attack on the Quidditch Cup,” he yelled back. Several people let out low hisses and gasps. 

Malfoy looked venomous. “That’s right Weasley, keep taking shit about things you don’t know anything about. Just like a blood traitor!” 

A crowd was starting to gather as Ron retorted: “How can you tell the difference? All you know how to do is talk shit!”

“I’ll get Professor Snape if this doesn’t stop,” Montague said angrily. “Now shut it both of you.” 

But Malfoy was not content without having the last word. “You will never be truly one of us, no matter how hard you try! You’ll always be a filthy blood-traitor Weasley! No matter what!” 

It was a very angry Snape who regarded the two later that night as they stood before him, Ron’s face still red and puffy; Malfoy’s nursing a black eye. Ron was just happy that Crabbe and Goyle hadn’t been in the common room or he would have been faring a lot worse than he already was.

“So, this is not the first time I’ve had you two in here for fighting,” he said, his dark eyes cold as he glared at each in turn, “If you can’t behave any better than a pair of brawling muggles in a pub, then I am going to treat you both like muggles.” Ignoring Malfoy’s look of distaste, he continued: “You will each have a week of detentions doing menial muggle work. I’m sure Filch would be glad to have help cleaning up after all the slovenly students who curse these halls.”

Malfoy looked incredulous. “Professor I…”

“Silence,” Snape was looking thunderous. Talking to Professor Moody and having the man search his office had left him in a worse mood than usual, and he was in no mood to be lenient, not even concerning members of his own house. “By happy that I don’t take points from my own house or that would be a good twenty point’s apiece in addition to the detention. Now get out of here.” With that they left, each glaring daggers at the other as they headed back to the Slytherin common room.

So of course they were back to normal by the next day. Slytherin’s had to stand tall against the other houses and Malfoy and Weasley knew that better than anyone. And with students from other schools coming soon for the Triwizard Tournament, the need to seem like they gave a damn about each other was more impertinent than ever. 

That year was an entertaining one for Ron, and informative, if nothing else. It was the year Ron had his first kiss from a very pretty looking Tracey Davis after the Yule Ball, the first time he had a date to take to Hogsmeade and the first time he found a branch of magic that he didn’t have to share with Malfoy. For getting stuck in Slytherin gave Ron more time than he could ever wish to study, and the one subject he actually really liked was Defense Against the Dark Arts. And Ron got his best boost for the subject ever when a book of mind defense fell into his hands.

He hadn’t even known about the ways to enter a person’s mind, or that such a thing was possible. As he read about it, more and more ideas came into his mind. If he could learn the magic, Legilimancy, than he could have all the dirt on others he needed. It would help to know what the twins were up to before they did it, especially as he was still often the subject of their cruel pranks. And what blackmail he could get on Malfoy.

Unfortunately, his efforts to learn first how to defend his mind with Occlumency were tedious and difficult without someone to help and he soon found himself being dragged into Snape’s office, who promptly confiscated his book and assigned him detention. So that was it, or at least it seemed so to him at the time. That was until the Tournament ended and he found himself of all places being invited to a place where he had never entered before: the Headmasters office. 

As it turns out, Professor Snape was willing to teach him Occlumency now or at least the Headmaster had convinced him to do so. In exchange, now that Voldemort was back, he would agree to give Snape monthly reports on what his fellow Slytherin’s were doing. 

He should have taken it as an insult, but between the Headmaster actually acknowledging him for once, the possibility of learning how to invade another’s mind, and the thought of being able to use any dirt he did get on Malfoy, he happily accepted. From his corner of the room, Snape grimaced. 

~  
~  
~

 

So without realizing what he was getting into, Ron agreed to spy on his best friend. It was not so very much work compared with trying to learn Occlumency with Snape, which was time-consuming though worthwhile when he finally got it, or secretly practicing Legilimancy on the minds of his fellow Slytherin fifth years. It was much of what he thought he would find in their minds. Crabbe: bullying and food, Goyle: bullying and even more food, Blaise Zabini: being better than everyone, Malfoy: Potter, Millicent Bulstrode: reporting to Snape, wait what?

It was then that he found out that he was not the only Slytherin spying on his classmates. Both Tracey Davis and Millicent Bulstrode were doing it too. Ron didn’t know how many of his classmates were actually going to join Voldemort, but he did know that the Headmaster was drawing in any students from the house who might have a reason to be loyal to the right side. 

He supposed he should feel less special, especially when he found out that two upper years were involved as well. The five of them would have a chance to meet each other and talk in the room of requirement where Potter and other students, including, he thought with a pang, his siblings, had secretly met all year to practice magic. 

“This is stupid,” Millicent Bulstrode snarled as she tore off her Inquisitorial Squad badge and stepped on it. “Weasley, you should have joined that damn group instead of me, Malfoy’s your little boyfriend.”

“To hell with you Bulstrode,” he said, his ears turning red, “I said I wasn’t joining after Christmas, didn’t I?” The burly brunette threw him a look of deepest loathing as he continued, “besides everyone knows that you love bullying people, so it’s perfect for you to be a part of.” 

He wasn’t going to join, not even after Malfoy’s less-than-subtle hint that it would look good if he were actively resisting Harry Potter and his own siblings. After Malfoy had mocked his father for getting hurt at the Ministry he would be damned if he would join any group he was a part of.

He never let it show how much he worried about his father and he angered his siblings by not even going with them to the hospital, but he had had several sleepless nights thinking about the what ifs and feeling for once secretly grateful to Harry Potter, who if his brothers and sister told it correctly, had somehow dreamt his father was in trouble and alerted Dumbledore in time. 

That didn’t stop the twins from calling him a traitor, or Ginny from telling him that she was ashamed to be his sister. Ron could always count on his siblings for their fair and generous thoughts towards him. 

But none of this was the worst to come out of his spying. He and Malfoy made up of course. They were back to insulting each other and everyone else together before long. No the worst was the following year, when an even paler than usual Draco Malfoy pulled up his left sleeve to reveal the dark mark. His gray eyes seemed to be searching Ron’s blue ones as though begging for some kind of help, but all he said was: “So now you know not to mess with me.”

“Wow, thanks for the warning, Malfoy. I’ll keep that in mind,” Ron said sarcastically, ignoring the wretched feeling in his gut that told him that Malfoy was in deep, far deeper than the arrogant prat had ever meant to find himself. What was one supposed to do when your so-called best friend has joined a band of murderers and looks like he is about to break down any minute and cry? 

“It’s for your own good that you watch your step Weasley,” Malfoy continued. “You wouldn’t want to get hurt, after all.”

“Right, glad we had this talk.” He wanted to be somewhere else, anywhere but talking to Malfoy about this, feeling the uncomfortable feelings of anger and pity and was that worry? rising up within him. If Malfoy was screwed then he wanted to see and know as little about it as was possible. 

But he also knew that he owed a visit to Professor Snape, who before long was having him report Draco Malfoy’s progress on getting Death Eaters into the school. Ron watched diligently all year, noting with some derision that Harry Potter was doing the same. Finally Malfoy managed it. Ron ran to the Potions Master, only to be told that he was to watch over an injured Professor Flitwick. He was kneeling there, trying to revive the tiny Charms professor when Hermione Granger and Luna Lovegood found him. Working together for the first time in their lives, the three got him to the hospital wing. 

The rest of the school was under attack and before long, the unthinkable happened when Professor Snape took the life of Professor Dumbledore. 

~  
~  
~

Ron Weasley had the worst summer of his life after that. Dumbledore was dead, Snape was a traitor, Draco Malfoy was Merlin knows where doing Merlin knows what and he was once again the subject of talk and derision amongst his siblings, who were convinced that he was somehow involved in helping Malfoy get Death Eaters into the school. He didn’t even bother correcting them and it was with some surprise that Hermione Granger, who had come to stay with his sister for the summer, came to his defense. 

“He could have hexed us at any time Ginny, and he didn’t. I think he was just trying to help Professor Flitwick.”

Ginny disagreed. “He’s Malfoy’s friend, Hermione, of course he was helping him.” Hermione, catching Ron listening in, shook her head. Ginny merely tossed her hair over one shoulder and continued as though he wasn’t there: “Hermione, Slytherin’s like him don’t care what happens to the rest of us. He stopped caring the moment he was sorted there.”

And that was it. Ron had had enough. He grabbed the few things he considered worth keeping, took the little money his parents had given him, and left for the Leaky Cauldron, where he promptly offered himself as a dishwasher in exchange for room and board, where he was thankfully accepted. And there he was, in spite of his mother coming twice to try to bring him to reason, when the Ministry fell and Harry Potter was declared Public Enemy number 1. 

Heading back to school under Snape’s Death Eater regime was near torture but he managed it. If the first week of getting to know the vile Carrows wasn’t enough, it was with considerable shock that he was sent to the Headmaster’s office in order to have a very surreal talk with Headmaster Dumbledore’s portrait where he was informed that he had settled his dying with Snape beforehand, that Snape was still loyal to the right side, and would he like his old job back keeping an eye on the Death Eater children?

Of course he had to take back that job. Dumbledore was obviously hoping that if he could get even the tiniest hint of Potter’s whereabouts, Ron, or Bulstrode, who had also gone back to her old job, could get the news to them fast. It seemed that Ron was stuck forever helping the Gryffindor’s keep their eyes on the Slytherin’s. Then one day it all changed when he was confronted by of all people Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle. 

They accused him of treachery. He was even accused, of all things, of spying for Professor McGonagall. In the end he was saved, if you could call it that, by Malfoy finding them and pointing out that he had known all year last year that he had been a Death Eater and had done nothing. The matter was only resolved for the moment and before long he found himself face to face with the Carrows. As it turns out, he wasn’t considered harsh enough on the first years.

And then and there his life came to a screeching halt. 

“So Weasley is going soft, is he?” the female Carrow croaked. “What a surprise, that a blood traitor wouldn’t have it in him to use any real powerful magic.” She gestured towards a little boy of twelve, who was nursing a broken arm in front of a group of seventh years. Just like your sister, aren’t you Weasley? 

Ron didn’t answer. He knew that Ginny had restarted that insane group that Potter and his friends had run in fifth year, and of course he was going to get blamed. Neither side would ever trust him. 

Carrow stuck her ugly, leering face in his. “What’s the matter, can’t you say anything?”

“I’m not a blood traitor.” He told her, feeling his face reddening. Everyone was staring at him.

“Prove it,” she hissed. She gestured towards the boy, who had started to cry. He looked up at Ron with tear-streaked eyes. And Ron, who had never hated himself quite like he did at this moment, raised his wand and for the first time in his life, said: “Crucio,” 

~  
~  
~

It was over. He was screwed before he could even begin. But Snape and Dumbledore encouraged him to continue this, determined that he report anything he knew to Snape. Wishing desperately for a way out, he found himself being given the forefront in any dark arts display, in class or in the Great Hall. He made himself a darling of the Carrows and for every atrocity he was able to tell Snape about and avert, he felt like he was responsible for another one. The students hated him worse than ever. 

“That’s it Weasley you Death Eater wannabe. Show your true colors.” Ron wasn’t aware that Lavender Brown knew sarcasm. 

“You’re a disgrace to your family, you bastard.” Finnigan always had such colorful language. 

“Go jump in the lake, you bloody git.” Michael Corner was almost Gryffindor-like in his temperament. 

Yet anytime he was able to report to Snape on wrongdoing before the Carrows, he had the relief of at least knowing that he would punish them less severely. It helped at first, took care of some of the guilt, at least until Christmas came, and he was invited to Malfoy Manor for the holidays. 

“I can’t go,” he looked at Snape in desperation. “If He is there, I’ll have to take the mark, won’t I?”

The Slytherin Headmaster looked at him shrewdly. “It seems that several seventh years have been given the honor of attending. Goyle, Crabbe, Nott, Bulstrode and you have all been invited. You are without a doubt going to be given the honor of receiving the mark.” He looked at the unusually grave portrait of Headmaster Dumbledore before continuing: “as a Weasley, you would be considered a smug acquisition over your parents, but you will also be watched. This is unless you wish to go into hiding, in which case we would have to find a way to smuggle you out, though this could further put your family at jeopardy.”

 

And that was it. He was given no choice and being thrown to the snakes. There was no choice here. If he didn’t accept the invitation, he would be labeled a blood traitor and his life and his family’s lives could be at risk. If he did though, he would have to get the dark mark. He realized without needing to be told that he had been set up. Before the week was out, he was completely screwed. 

His old Potions professor looked almost sorrowful as he said: “I suggest you go over what I have taught you.” 

~  
~  
~

He could see the smug looks on Crabbe and Goyle when he entered his dormitory later that night. From his right, Malfoy was watching him warily. Looking for all the world like he was holding back something soul-wrenching, he merely muttered: “goodnight Weasley,” and climbing into bed, yanked the green and silver hangings closed. Ron followed suit, closing his own to block out the smug looks still being thrown his way.

He ignored the other boys as they gathered in a compartment on the train. He was thinking of flying. He kept going over in his head his first time out on a broom when he was little, his older brother Charlie holding him as they flew through the air. He hadn’t seen Charlie in a few years, but he knew what he must think of him. As Ron later joined the small knot of students walking into the stately Malfoy Manor he knew that this act would remove him from his family beyond anything else. 

The red eyes glaring out of the snake like face were the most horrible thing he could imagine and yet he kept his cool. The story painted was one of an ambitious, overlooked youngest son who wanted to finally make a name for himself separate from his poor blood traitor family. And it was not untrue; he had wanted to make a separate name for himself. That was why the hat had placed him in Slytherin, wasn’t it?

Voldemort’s eyes blazed into his own as he fed him a stream of thoughts and emotions, the twins bullying him, his father yelling, his sister saying that he was no brother of hers, him leaving home. He smiled a lipless smile and motioned for Ron to kneel…and then he said that he would be pleased to have him join. Ron’s arm was lifted, his sleeve was pulled back, and his fate was fixed. 

It was the worst pain he had ever felt. His arm was still horribly burning three hours later while he lay in the largest bed he had ever slept in, in a house so luxurious he could never have dreamt of being in it in his life. Ron clutched his bed sheets in pain, trying to concentrate again on flying. He was unable to block out the burn and was just getting up for water when he heard a knock on his door. 

“Weasley,” the door turned and Malfoy crept in, in his nightclothes. “Are you awake?” He was holding something in his hands. Ron sitting up in bed looked from Malfoy’s pale pointed face to the item. It appeared to be a potion. “It helps with the burning,” Malfoy muttered, handing it to Ron. Then without another word, he left the room, leaving Ron to his thoughts. 

~  
~  
~

So here was Ron Weasley, playing the part of junior spy, reporting to a double agent and a portrait and wondering once again now his life might have played out if the hat had just placed him in Gryffindor with his family. He supposed he would hate himself and the world far less if he had worn red and gold like he was supposed to. 

Having to compartmentalize all of your emotions gets easier to do the more practice you have at it and Occlumency is designed to work with that practice in mind. Cold-bloodedly torturing students while pretending to enjoy it is another thing though; there is only so much of it you can do before you find yourself cracking. Ron Weasley, on break for the spring, and watching Bellatrix Lestrange attempt to coercive him and a very ill-looking Draco into torturing Potter’s friends found himself cracking. 

As he watched Granger scream, he finally felt that crack. Without being able to stop himself he raised his wand and watched in delight as Bellatrix Lestrange was knocked off her feet, her wand falling from her hand. To his right he heard Draco gasp as Longbottom ran forward to check on Granger. But he wasn’t done. As the Malfoy’s old elf apparated the group out, Bellatrix tried to grab a hold of Longbottom and Ron shot a hex at her. It was just enough time for them to disappear. 

Ron could do nothing then but run. He has no idea how he managed to escape Bellatrix and Greyback both, call it divine intervention, but here he was, badly injured, covered with blood, and with a very angry Bellatrix Lestrange stalking up to him while Draco Malfoy stared at him in horror. 

He turned to Malfoy then. “If you could ever kill anyone, do it now.”

“What?” Malfoy looked flabbergasted.

“It told you, I don’t mind dying, but I’m not running. Could you do it?”

“I…”

“As a favor to a friend? Your blood-traitor best friend?” 

Too late. Bellatrix Lestrange was before him, and he was flat on his back in terrible pain as waves of an unforgivable curse rolled over him. Before above him, the other death eaters laughed and Malfoy watched in horror, but Ron barely noticed them. He was trying to think about flying again as the curse was taken off and put back on again. Charlie used to take him flying, he was always so patient with him and it was always so much fun. Maybe if he had been in Gryffindor he could have joined the team?

His thoughts were cut off as a green light hit him, and the last thing he saw was Malfoy standing over him, his face determined, and his eyes oddly wet. He had never thought his best friend had had it in him. 

End

**Author's Note:**

> So yeah, I have no idea where this story came from.


End file.
